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. B'rak
focused on Vergrim and prayed that this time he would hear what
the magic-user was so distraught about. Each delay was costing
him sleep. To make matters worse, his head was now buzzing
worse than before.
"You have three minutes. Speak!"
"I have inspected the warrior who collapsed. His name is
S'sira."
"I know him. Quiet but deadly. Go on."
"He is not suffering from fatigue. He complains of headaches
and dizziness, but it is not due to a lack of rest. I cannot say for
sure, but I believe he may be suffering from some disease."
The captain folded his arms. "You believe it has something to
do with the villagers."
"Look for yourself. Where are all the young? The strong? It
would explain much."
B'rak laughed harshly. "It explains nothing. I have already
thought of that. What disease, pray tell, kills the young and strong
while allowing one such as the Speaker to go untouched? Sickness
is nothing new to me. If you cannot care for S'sira, it shall be in the
Queen's hands."
"You are a fool. Like all warriors. Your own life may be in
danger."
"Have a care, mage!" B'rak hissed. Vergrim turned away, thus
ending any further conversation. The patrol leader clutched his
head; the buzzing was now at a level where it hurt to think. He
stalked back into the Speaker's home and shouted for the elf.
Eliyah was already there, a silent spectre. B'rak, already in a
foul mood, cursed at him
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